


Hearts

by HazelNeedsSomeHelp



Category: Alice by Heart - Sheik/Sater/Sater & Nelson
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, canon can go suck a chode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNeedsSomeHelp/pseuds/HazelNeedsSomeHelp
Summary: A Harold Pudding X Reader fic because Alice By Heart doesn't have enough content and especially not enough for my boy HaroldDISCONTINUED (sorry)
Relationships: Harold Pudding/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alice By Heart (Bootleg)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/561427) by Steven Slater. 



> Canon can go F itself and so can reality. You, the reader, along with a bunch of other teens and doctors, are in a tube station in the London Blitz. You, the reader, should be familiar with Alice By Heart if you're reading this. Alfred is sick, but not dead. But this is about Harold. He's babey. You, the reader, love him. Go fanfic!

I sat down on my cot and sighed. Dodgy and Clarissa were on their cots, chatting away like bombs weren't exploding within a mile of us. Alice sat by the doorway to the quarantined Alfred. The two were so lovestruck, but Alfred's got tuberculosis. He'll probably die, sadly, but Alice truly believes that reading Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to him will help. Tabatha sat at the top of the ladder off to the side of the large room. She held a dried rose in her hand, slowly crumbling each petal in her hand and letting the dust fall to the ground. Nigel was below the ladder, mumbling about how his mum would be here to pick him up any day now. Poor kid, his parents have been dead for months. Angus climbed the ladder to join Tabatha at the top, where he pulled a smoke from his pocket and happily lit it.   
Everyone here's either gone mad or has turned to drugs to keep happy. Even the doctors have succumbed to it, it seems. They no longer see us as people-- we're just a diagnosis, an illness, and sometimes even, a test subject.   
Thinking of test subjects, I noticed a particular face was missing from the crowd of teens-- Harold Pudding. The seventeen year old had been mistakenly drafted into the war, where he suffered some pretty bad PTSD, and then was brought here when the army realized their mistake. They didn't even apologize, not that that would help his condition. He was sent here rather than to his family because, well, they died. He was on the same street as Alfred-- the two were the only survivors. If Harold wasn’t fighting for his life, he would’ve been dead, too. The kid's gone mad, at least that's what the doctor has said. He says odd things, freaks out and screams when he hears loud sounds, yells back when he's yelled at. The doctors have thought about sending him away, along with Alfred, so they could get better help. Or die. No one ever comes back from the other bunkers. But no action’s been taken, probably because Harold isn't exactly a threat to us.   
My thoughts were interrupted by the large door to the far end of the room opening. Doctor Butridge walked in, Harold and the nurse behind him. Dr. Butridge had a clipboard in hand and was listing off words I didn't understand to the nurse. Harold looked like he was trying to follow along, but was more distracted by the twiddling of his thumbs over the doctor's monotonous tone. Dr. Butridge then stopped and turned around, causing Harold to nearly bump into him. He scowled at the teen, but straightened his back and looked down at the two.   
“Mr. Pudding--,” Dr. Butridge rolled his eyes at the boy’s unfortunate name, “--you’re free for the night. Leave me and the nurse be.”  
“Only come for us if absolutely needed.” The nurse piped up.   
Dr. Butridge groaned. “But see if the others can help you first. We’ll probably be busy.”   
Harold nodded and the nurse pushed his shoulder in an attempt to make him leave. She made it seem like a gentle shove, but nearly knocked the kid over. He nodded again, and ran off to his cot. His bed was right next to mine, and I was forced to share a chest with him for what little belongings we had. I didn’t mind it, though he was less organized than me. We both had a gas mask, dented helmet, and a spare blanket-- though he also had a dirty, red coat that looked like it came from the Civil War, a deck of cards, a paper hat and an extra shirt and pair of pants. I had another outfit, too-- a stained button-up and dark grey pants-- and a few small notebooks, of course with pencils for them. I used the notebooks for recording everything that happens down here. Not that much did.   
We’re just a group of teenagers and doctors hiding in an abandoned tube while bombs go off constantly above us. We’ve got a couple small windows at the top of the vast area, up at the perch. There was a ladder embedded in the wall that led to a small landing-- the perch-- where extra supplies were stored. Mainly extra bedding, helmets, gas masks-- the necessities. Us youth aren’t allowed up there. Though, I’ve seen Tabatha and Angus sneak up there late at night. I’ve always wanted to go up there, too, but always wimped out.   
I looked up from the chest to notice Harold staring at me. I raised an eyebrow, he grinned and did the same. I giggled and stuck my tongue out, and he copied it again. He started laughing-- his laugh was loud and sounded like a movie villain, it was fun. The other people looked over at us-- some laughed along with the mad man, others groaned in annoyance. Harold quieted down and went to the chest between us. He grabbed his coat and fished something out of it’s pocket. He looked around before pulling it out.  
“Tea?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he lifted up a flask. He held it out towards me, and I cautiously went to take it.   
Right as I almost had it, Alfred went into a harsh coughing fit. It echoed through the room and the doctor rushed in. Harold threw the flask into the chest and slammed it closed, almost shutting it on his hand. He flinched from the sound and hopped onto his bed. We all watched as Dr. Butridge threw aside the curtain hiding Alfred, Alice jumped to her feet and tried to see her friend. Alfred… Did not look good, from what I could see. He was deathly pale and sweating so bad his white shirt had turned a greyish-yellow. His eyes were glazed over as they looked up at the doctor. The curtain was closed and the nurse came out, Alice tried to go in with her but was stopped.   
“Please, I need to see Alfred!” Alice begged, but the nurse wouldn’t oblige.   
She tried to make a run for it, trying to get past the curtain that separated her from her friend, but the nurse grabbed her and threw her back. I stood up and walked to Alice, I gently grabbed her arm and brought her to my bed, she didn’t fight it. We sat down and I patted her shoulder. The nurse huffed and walked off.  
“I’m sorry.” I whispered to her, cautiously hugging her. Harold looked between us; I noticed he had pulled his card deck out and started nervously shuffling the cards.  
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault he’s this way.”  
“But I wish I could help him get better, or help you see him.”   
Alice chuckled, messing with the book that she had shoved in her coat pocket. “You always did have other’s best intentions in mind, huh?”  
I laughed softly and looked at all the people in the bunker-- I didn’t get along with all of them, but I would still do anything for them all. “I guess so.”  
“I want a hug.” Harold suddenly piped up. He was staring jealously at me and Alice, who’s arms hung around each other’s shoulders. I glanced at Alice, she shrugged and smiled. We both moved apart some, leaving a space between us.   
“We’ve got room for one more.” I said, patting the spot. Harold’s eyes lit up and he nearly dropped his cards as he jumped into the spot between us. I slung my arm around his shoulders, Alice kept her arms to herself but leaned on the boy, resting her head on his shoulder. He looked at her and furrowed his brow, then turned to me and rested his head on my shoulder.   
We sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the company. In these times, everyone was mean and distrusting, so it was nice to find someone you could just be with. Most of the people here did succumb to our need for physical affection-- but me and Harold never got much. Alice had Alfred, Dodgy has Clarissa, Angus has Tabatha. People abandoned Harold for his madness, people abandoned me for being so forgiving with him. Maybe the people here still are mean. But Alice was kind to us, too, thankfully. Alfred wasn’t as trusting, but he did grow up next door to Harold, and seeing the change war had on him shook him up.   
“You’re thinking.” Harold whispered loudly-- like a young child trying to share a secret. This snapped me from my trance and I noticed Alice had started reading her book and Harold had gone back to fiddling with his cards.  
“Um, yes?” I responded. I awkwardly turned my head so I could see him but wouldn’t bump him. He buried himself further into my side and let out a breath.  
“What about?” He said after a moment of silence.   
“About… About how things have changed. With the war, and all.” I turned away, staring at the curtain that hid Alfred. “Even when the war started, our lives were still normal. I mean, yeah, the fear of getting killed or drafted was there, but we still went to school and hung out with our friends. But then they started bombing us, and they won’t stop. Everything I knew and loved, all gone. I have nobody.”  
Harold frowned. He put his cards into his coat pocket and wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me close. “I’m nobody.”  
I couldn’t help but laugh, I tightened my arm around him and let my head lay against his. “You’re an odd one, Harold.”  
“Odd? The doctor said I’m mad.”   
"Perhaps I think he should see you from my perspective, then."  
I let my gaze fall back to Harold. His cheek was smushed against my shoulder and his eyes were half closed. It was… Adorable, I think. It had been so long since I've seen someone in this light, the sudden feelings I had hit me like the bombs above us hit the remains of London.   
"Alright, it's getting late!" The nurse yelled, walking into the room with a pile of blankets. She dropped one onto each bed, and Alice jumped up to go to her cot. Harold remained at my side, not that I was fighting him, until the nurse came by and grabbed him by the ear. "To your bed, Pudding. No time for foolishness."  
She pushed him to his cot and tossed a blanket to him, then handed me one and walked off. She finished her round and went to the doorway leading to the adults' quarters. She opened the fuse box and turned off the power for the area. The place went dark, the last shreds of light came from the windows above. But even they faded away as I lied down and fell asleep.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of you x Harold. This chapter is heccin short but whatever.

The sound of a high pitched whistle woke me up, and I shot up in bed. The bunker was dark still, no morning light or dull light bulbs to shine down. A sliver of moonlight, though, came in through the small windows, and cast long shadows through the tube station.   
The whistle got louder, and I suddenly realized what it was. I threw my hands over my ears as a bomb hit the ground above us. The alarms started blaring and everyone was shaken awake. Harold let out a yelp and dove under his cot, screaming about an old war memory as though he were still there.   
People started rushing to grab their gas masks, in case the bomb held mustard gas or if a cloud of dust were to fall with it. I jumped forward and grabbed mine and Harold's. I pulled mine on and handed the other to the ex-soldier. He didn't notice, too busy covering his eyes and ears as if that'd stop the commotion, all the while screaming about his deceased army buddy. I pulled him out from the cot and shoved the mask into his arms, where he shakedly put it on.   
He recoiled, back under the bed, and I stood up to see if I could help other people. The others seemed to be fine, but I saw a brick crumble away from the ceiling and collapse. It nearly hit Clarissa, not that losing her would be a tragedy, and she let out a scream and jumped away from it.   
Everything then went quiet. No alarms. No one spoke a word. Even the loud mouthed Dodgy was silent, even Harold had gone quiet as he rocked back and forth. After a few long moments, the red cross nurse emerged from the doorway to the doctor's quarters.   
"Get back to bed everyone." She said, ripping her gas mask off. "We'll assess the damage tomorrow, for now, we must sleep."  
I cautiously removed my gas mask, as did the others, and we all glanced at each other. For a brief second, we were all on the same page. We all felt the same way. We all thought the same thing.   
"This world is hell." Angus spat, collapsing onto his cot.   
Dodgy rolled his eyes as he laid back down. "You can say that again."  
"This world is hell." Harold mumbled, not understanding Dodgy's phrase. He hugged his gas mask as he sat down.  
Everyone settled back down. I tucked my gas mask back into the chest, and Harold soon followed. He lingered by the box for a moment, staring at everything like it was all new to him. I lied under my blanket and let out a sigh.   
At least the bunker wasn't blown to bits. At least we're all still alive. I let those thoughts calm me as I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.   
As I was nearly unconscious, I felt something gently land on the end of my cot, like someone sitting down there. I thought nothing of it, too tired to care, and finally drifted away.


End file.
